The Topaz Awakening
by Ausartak
Summary: Our cautionary tale begins with a young boy who has never heard of love. And a young girl whose head is spinnng from the pressure. We follow our young heroes along the knifes edge of madness and fate. Dark-fic. Graphic violence, sex, anorexia, abuse etc
1. Chapter 1

**The Topaz Awakening**

**Disclaimer- I do not own these charecters.**

When I was young I was never hugged. Never kissed. Never loved. When I was young I never played. Never ran. Never laughed. I hid.

But that. Is the only reason I survived.

My story starts in a dark cupboard. Imagine that small place under your sink, or a cupboard under stairs. The dark, all around you. Imagine the smell, damp, mould and sweat. A small cot bed, a small blanket, and a small boy, shaking. Me.

For the first eleven years of my life. I didn't know much more than this. I had never heard of school. I had never heard of a thing called love. But that didn't matter, really, did it? You can't miss what you never had, can you? Except I did. Curled up, alone in the dark. The worst thing wasn't the cobwebs, the loneliness, or even the shadows that danced on the walls like ghoulish hands. It was this sense that something important was missing. Or that is was there. But I was just too stupid to understand it, or too scared to find it.

When I was young, I used to wake up early, before the sun had risen. I would count to ten. 1..2..3..4..5..6..7..8..9..10

And then heave myself out of bed with every ounce of my will power. Then I would make breakfast, standing on a chair, flipping bacon and eggs. Watching in horror as the fat would bubble and melt off the pink strips of flesh my uncle and cousin would stuff into their mouths. I would lay the table, forks, spoons, knives. And then scuttle back to my hole like a mouse. Not making a sound.

I listened as my family talked. My uncle who I knew largely by his deep grating voice seemed almost unaware of my existence. My cousin, Dudley, I doubt he even knew my name. My aunt though, she knew I existed all right. Her voice was high pitched. Tightly strained. Pinched.

My aunt became my task master, my prison guard and my God all rolled into one. My vengeful God. "An eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth" she used to quote, with self righteous indignation, when I had done something wrong. Her system was simple, the punishment fit the crime, always. I burnt the bacon, my hands got burnt in return. I cried out in the night, I was gagged for a week. I tripped and fell, and then, I was beaten to the floor.

The thing is, this meant sense to me as a child. It seemed fair, that I was punished when I had failed her. But now I cannot understand, not even with the shred of compassion I have left how she could do that to a child. To me. I started to believe every word she said. I was a freak.

When I was a little older, seven maybe. Imagine my surprise when I was called into my uncle's office. He was sitting at his desk. He called me over. Made me stand behind him. And then he made the worst mistake he could ever have made. He taught me to read. I went to bed that night, a knot of excitement in my belly. I carved the letters he had taught me into the back of my wooden door. I spent the night committing them to memory. I recited them under my breath like a chant, for protection, for freedom.

He carried on teaching me, a little each day. And I began to see things I had missed before. Even the label on the morning's milk fascinated me. I read everything I could, the back of the washing up liquid. This carried on for a while. Although my uncle never showed any affection, he seemed to have a small soft spot for me. Although that soft spot was never large enough to help me out when I was bruised and beaten. We moved on to numbers. To maths.

And soon, without me even realising what was happening, I was running his business behind the scenes. After all it was the last I could do for him. The man who had taught me how to live, intentionally or not. The numbers and letters that I loved became a large portion of my time. At night I would fall asleep, into a land of dreams where digits and characters danced under my eyelids. I worked until I breathed them into the cold air, in my dark cupboard.

It was a good deal as I saw it, soon I was doing Dudley's homework as well. But that meant I could give my uncle a list of things I needed to complete it to A star standards. I devoured textbooks until I was way beyond my level. I pushed and pushed my uncle's business until profits were up 300%, just by some clever tax evasions and cleverly placed investments.

I would still work for my aunt. Still be punished by her. Still be whipped and burnt and kicked by her. But now when she did it. I couldn't even feel it. I smiled and counted down from a million in square numbers.

I must have been close to the age of ten when my uncle called me into his office, just like he did everyday. To work. But this time he didn't point to a pile of paper work, or hand me Dudley's exercise books. "Harry, my boy, you've made me and your aunt so proud , so happy to have you here." I beamed as any ten year old would. "But there's something else, only you can help me with" I nodded along face serious now, worried the taxman had caught me up.

Vernon knelt down before me, and ran his fat hand over my cheek. I shivered. He had never touched me before. Even as a ten year old I knew something was sinister, something was not right. I fought frantically to shut myself down, to sleep, anything to not feel his touch. His rancid meaty breath on my skin. But even numbers, even letters and anagrams could not block out his moans.

At night when I slept, I dreamt of his fat hands on me. I dreamt of how I had done nothing to resist. I dreamt of how I was weak. How he must be punishing me, because I was a freak. I worked harder. Grew taller, faster, stronger. Got smarter. Pushed and pushed. Hoping I could make him stop, if only I was good enough. Maybe he would stop punishing me. If I could shine the sink until my hands bled. If I could bring his business to dizzying heights. If I could boost Dudley's homework to degree level. Maybe he would stop.

But he would never stop.

And neither would she.

When I was eleven, I found a strange letter in my uncle's pile of incoming mail. It was written on thick yellowed parchment, the colour of marzipan. And had venomous green ink scripted upon it. This was not the strangest thing about it though.

It was addressed to me. Harry James Potter. I traced the letters with my finger nail, the gentle curve of the H. Expecting it to disappear at any moment.

I looked around, suddenly terrified. Took a deep breath and ripped it open. My eyes blurred with tears as I read the letter. Some sick practical joke, a school for witches, for wizards. It even wanted me to put a drop of my blood on the page if I were accepted. Sick.

I froze as I heard the office door creak open, it was my aunt staring in horror at the letter in my hands. "Vernon" she screamed, her voice like breaking glass. He came running, out of breath, red with exertion. His eyes too opened wide as he took in the marzipan parchment, the poison green ink.

Then they both laid into me. Freak. Disgusting. Filth. The letter drifted to the ground like a feather. Dimly I heard their voices arguing as they hit me, as they whipped me. I curled into a ball. But still heard them as they panicked. That was when I realised magic was real. They were scared because they knew the letter wasn't a joke. They were scared of me.

I made my choice, with nothing to loose. I crawled forward and rested my bloody palm on the page. It glowed blue, topaz and pure, for a second. Then there was silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Topaz Awakening**

Three days. Seventy-two hours. That was the time it took for the wizarding world to invade my life. My uncle and aunt spat on me. Locked me in my room. Left me there to die. Not a word, not a peep for three days.

On the first day, I rolled over onto my side. I traced over my alphabet carvings with my blood.

On the second day I lied awake. Terrified they were coming to kill me. Terrified that the family I had worked so hard to please were now so ashamed of me I didn't deserve to live.

On the third day I passed out from the pain. For the first time in eleven years, I didn't dream.

And God saw that it was good.

My eyelids fluttered open, I heard crashes and bangs. A small yelp from my aunt. A grunt from my uncle. Then there was a scraping of a key in a lock. And light drove into my eyes in painful spikes. "Get up" Vernon hissed, "We don't have time for your freakiness now, go make yourself presentable".

I dragged myself up, steadying myself against the doorframe as the world span like the inside of a washing machine. He pushed me forward, and I staggered upstairs. "Ah you know young boys, takes forever for them to get up" aunt Petunia's pacifying voice floated from the living room to my ears.

I showered. Hot needles stabbing at me. I dressed. Rough dry clothes against my damp tender skin. Then I made my way down to the living room.

The largest man I have ever laid eyes apon, was perched in Petunia's best armchair, clasping a small blue mug, like a doll's tea party accessory in his oversized hands. I frowned as I saw the dirt on his fingers. Black oil of some sort. "Harry m' boy" he exclaimed. I froze, only one person had called me his boy before.

Petunia cleared her throat loudly "Mr...Hagrid has come about you attending Hogwarts." There was a warning look in her eye. I kept quiet. "Yes" my uncle continued "me and your aunt thought it might be a good idea if you were out of our way for a while". I saw the undertones to his statement as clearly as if they were written in the air in front of me. He was afraid. But I could still see the desire, the unadulterated longing in his eyes.

For the first time I wondered if Petunia knew, if he had ever looked at her in the same way he looked at me. Hagrid nodded along happily "ah kids love 'em and hate them at the same time eh? If you're up for it Harry I can take you to get your school stuff today, we can stop of at the bank first like".

I was about to decline his offer when Petunia cut in again "think about what a wonderful opportunity this is Harry, I know, as a special treat, We'll let you stay in a hotel or with a friend until school starts. That way you can get a real taste of the wizarding world". Her meaning was clear to all bar Hagrid. She wanted me gone.

Which was why, A few hours later, I found myself standing in a dirty pub with a half giant. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke doesn't it. A wizard and a half giant walk into a bar...

Apart from it wasn't a joke. The strange smells, wood smoke, alcohol. The strange people, dressed in robes and pointy hats. The strange drinks, bursting into purple flames at periodic intervals. They were all real.

We walked through the haze of smoke and drunken conversations, to the back of the pub where there was a red brick wall. It seemed pretty normal to me, the bricks rough and red. But when Hagrid pulled out an ostentatious pink umbrella and tapped the bricks in sequence it seemed to fold in on itself. I wondered if anyone else noticed the pattern Hagrid had tapped was also a replica of the Fibonacci sequence. Arranged in a triangle of bricks, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21....

The alley beyond the wall was breathtaking. More people than I had ever seen before bustled and huffed. Vintage and even older looking shops lined the pavements. We stepped forward. But I did not miss the glance Hagrid shot me, as if I were a frightened horse about to bolt. I hadn't really talked much, I'd pulled back when he reached for my hand. I scared him just like I scared everyone else. I was a monster.

We entered the bank first. I looked down at the cold marble floor until we reached a help desk. A strange creature peered down it's long nose at me, I stared back, blank and stoic. The goblin, Griphook burst into a grin. "Mr potter, welcome to Gringotts, key please" I continued to stare, Hagrid flapped around looking for a key in his oversized pockets. Griphook kept eye contact, never blinking. He wasn't smiling anymore.

We made our way down to the vaults in a small cart. I wondered how it could move so fast, it was so poorly designed the aerodynamics should have meant we travelled at snails pace, with its thick tyres and large flat front. But we didn't. Magic.

The key turned in the lock, inside there was a mountain of gold coins. I stepped back, turned round, and squeezed my eyes shut. "Harry, this is what ye parents left ye" But I knew better. It was all a trick, a horrible trick, my parents abandoned me, hated me more than the Dursley's did. They would never leave money for a freak like me.

I felt the goblins stare on me and forced my eyelids open. "I can assure mister Potter" his voice although rough and ugly came out silky and sickening sweet, as if he found me amusing "that the money in the vault does in fact belong to you, a goblin can always tell." I dragged myself up and met his gaze, I took a look at Hagrid who had now wondered down the hall after another Goblin.

Feeling Griphook's gaze bore into my back the whole time I took his proffered leather purse and scooped it full of handfuls of gold. After, we were just signing out of the bank, when I happened to catch a glimpse of some paper work behind the Goblin named Ragnook's desk. My hand twitched, and I bit the inside of my cheek as I tried to keep quiet. "What is it?" the pointy nosed Goblin sighed as if he expected me to ask where the toilets were.

I walked away, but before I could stop myself, turned back "It's just sir, you forgot to carry the 1" and carried on out of the door trying not to run. Hagrid left me then. I wasn't really surprised. I had my list of things to buy that was all I needed.

I bought all the basic stuff first, Robes some basic school ones, and over coat and a navy one for weekends. I did not miss the extra pairs of trousers and shirts she threw into my bag after giving me a once over. I didn't really care how I looked, but apparently she did. I got my potions ingredients from a small but spanking clean shop.

Then all I had left was my wand and books. I knew books would take hours so I started with my wand. "I've been expecting you Mister Potter" were the first words I heard as I entered Olivander's shop. I nodded but said nothing. The wand chooses the wizard he'd said. And I'd tried hundreds by the time he gave up. So far all I'd managed to do was destroy the front window, ripped the curtains to shreds and at best some shaky showers of red and green sparks.

He was clearly baffled, a look that did not suit his worn face and pale eyes. "Come back in a few hours" I bit my lip in worry but said nothing, maybe I wasn't a wizard after all.

I headed to the bookstore. I picked up the complete Hogwarts set first years 1-7. But before knew it I had a list of over a hundred books for the shopkeeper to shrink and pack for me. Advanced defensive and offensive magic, warding, runes, arithmacy- I was bound out like that after all-, elemental control, occlumency, general mind arts, finally dark arts and blood rituals.

The shopkeeper looked wary but when they saw the contents of my purse had no choice but to let me make my purchases. At the end of the day, I had everything I could ever need, expect that is, my wand.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Topaz Awakening**

I headed back to Olivander's just as the shutters were starting to come down on the other shops. Doors shut, open signs turned to closed and the sky faded to lilac as I walked down the cobbled street. I pushed open the door warily, it was half open, the lights off inside.

The first thing I saw was the destruction.

The second was Olivander's dead body. He was lying partially hidden by the counter, surrounded by thousands of wands and their empty boxes. Like broken twigs abandoned by a woodcutter. His face was ashen, a grey tinge had crept into his skin, giving a pewter tone beneath the broken blood vessels that had come with age.

Dust motes floated gently through the air, his milky eyes stared at me unblinking, and for a second, just for a second. I thought I saw a shadow moving behind me, reflected in his irises like they were pale blue mirrors. I shook the shivers from my spine as I bent to examine his surroundings. I had never seen a dead body before that point, the numb feeling I got, like nothing really mattered if all we had to look forward to was death, it never really went away.

But I could never tell if that was because I never shook it out of me, like I would have if I'd have been a stronger child, or because I was just always surrounded by death.

The wands I guessed had been spilt from stacks or piles he'd made whilst looking for my wand. But beneath his head a strange liquid, almost gold in colour, and less dense than water, vapours shimmed around his white hair like a mocking halo. I reached out gently and touched it, the gas twirled around my fingers like strangling vines. The temperature of the room dropped to freezing. My breaths came in short gasps as an overwhelming sense of fear enveloped my mind.

It was suddenly very dark and I was very alone. Flashes of Olivander's- I had never learnt his first name- last minutes on this plane took over my vision. A black shadowy figure and a green light. But then just as I was beginning to regain feeling in my feet, I saw his last thought, a wand.

I opened my eyes which I had not even realised were tightly clenched. I reached out and touched his hand, his skin was cold and clammy, it felt like the skin on legs of pigs I had cooked for the Dursley's, fleshy and fake. Clasped in his fingers was a wand.

The wood felt rough to touch, like it had been freshly cut, and was waiting to be varnished, but its weight was strangely reassuring to me. The wood itself was dark, but had a red tinge, like it could have been made of Cherry wood. Expect it was darker than that, shadows seemed to dance across it with a life of their own.

As soon as it was firmly in my grasp, I felt a warmth burn through my blood like I was on fire. Like very cell inside of me was burning, every nerve ending screaming at me. But it felt nice, it hurt, but it was safe, it was a promise to me, a sacrament of the power I could wield with it. My wand's way of saying, you. You are the one I have chosen. You.

Slipping the wand into my pocket I sighed, Olivander was the first person to have looked me in the eye, and not turn away in disgust, and now he was lying dead at my feet. With the first and second fingers of my right hand I gently slid his eyelids closed. I did not notice the gold gas had disappeared. I did not hear the almost silent laugh of the impossible man.

I ran.

I booked a room at the leaky cauldron, strangely no-one seemed to give me a second glance. That night was the first time I slept on a soft bed. It was also the last. As I lay down to sleep I could feel the soft mattress supporting my weight, but every time I moved I sank a little into it. Like it was a bed of mould or moss that would suffocate me. It wasn't long before even I grew tired of my discomfort and threw myself onto the floor.

It was on the hard wooden floor that I found refuge, I dreamt I breathed magic out like a dragon breathed fire, and I had forgotten how to read because the magic consumed every fibre of me, words and digits no longer held any meaning, because I was beyond flesh and bone and pain, I was beyond language . I found myself awakening to sunlight filtering through the blinds the next morning.

I could hear people in the rooms above and below me, but no-one came for me, no-one asked me to do anything. Maybe they knew I was a freak? I rolled over onto my stomach and pulled my textbooks towards me. The cover of my first, a beginners guide to defence against the dark arts, was a thick burgundy tome. The colour of dried blood, the cover felt heavy and reassuringly real in my hand, like it would anchor me here.

I couldn't practise magic outside of school, I wasn't stupid. But there were things I could do. I read through my books first of all. I started with the school required ones. The words were old fashioned, but they carried more weight that way, nothing was said without careful consideration, not like the half arsed footnotes in modern school books. I liked that, the way I could separate my life into a before and after. Subconsciously I brushed the scars on my stomach with my fingertips as I turned the page.

I tried to commit as many spells as possible to memory, but there were so many. They squirmed inside my brain like worms trying to break out. Accio...Wingardium Leviosa....Lumos....

My head was spinning but I couldn't stop reading, I'd never felt so alive, so full before. My wand felt like a hot stone in my pocket. Heavy and radiating warmth.

It was late when I had finished reading through all of my purchases, although I had not learnt all I could from the dusty tomes. I was ravenous with hunger, my stomach felt like I hadn't eaten for weeks, so I wondered downstairs into the noisy pub, a heavy smoke hung in the air, a quiet had descended on the bar.

I heard Olivander's name whispered in hushed tones.

I sat and ordered a small meal, mentally reviewing the mammoth tasks ahead of me, firstly I needed to work out a way I could practise magic undetected, I had read something vague about warding in my beginners guides to runic wards, which could be cast without a wand if the users will was strong enough. And God knows I was stubborn.

I thought about how I could make the runic wards work. It would be easy enough I thought, firstly I would need some more books on the subject; I only knew basic runes, not nearly enough to complete the complicated strings of them needed for any interesting works. Blood wards were always the strongest, which I guess explained the historic traditions regarding purebloods. But they were closely followed by those based on sacrifice, I tried to think of a way to combine them without hurting myself, by drew a blank. A blood ward might work ok on it's own, but if I wanted to hide my magical signature as well as block any sort of tracker based on my wand it would have to be cleverly structured.

From then on it was simple, I would have to learn occlumency of course, some history texts had suggested the current headmaster Albus Dumberore was a skilled legimens. Wandless and silent magic were also on my list, but they would come with time, like all good things. I would make a difference, I would be more than just a collection of bones and flesh. I would be remembered.

I padded up to my bedroom, the corridors were empty, my feel slapped bare against the carpet. I tiptoed up the stairs, unnerved by a portrait watching me closely. I paused for a moment, the whole situation was so stupid, I must have been dreaming. But shook the thought from my head, my dreams had never seemed this real. Before I reached my room, I heard a sobbing from a nearby room.

The door was shut, and made of old oak, but I could still here muffled cries. My insides twisted uncomfortably. Before I carried on to my room.

_Sorry this chapter's been in the pipeline longer than I'd expected, exams and load'sa shit you don't really care about. Hopefully chapters will be a bit more regular now I've got my arse in gear. Thanks to the person that reviewed, you knowing spike's song made my day 8-) so yeah, reviews= good..._


	4. Chapter 4

**The Topaz Awakening **

It was two days later, I found myself pressing the cold, sharp blade of a knife to my wrist. I pressed it into my flesh, not yet cutting it, but I could feel it's bite. I swiped the blade across my arm, the edge cut into me, deeply, blood began to run out of it like rivulets of rain on a windshield. Skin scrunched up around the cut, my nerves were singing.

Quickly I pressed a cloth to suture the wound, I dipped the first finger of my right hand in the bloody pool I had collected in a small pewter bowl lying on the floor. Then I began the real work. I had already traced the base pattern onto the floor, with a mix of pixie dust and dragons blood, expensive but not rare, all that was needed were the sealing runes, for secrecy and protection.

I closed my eyes as I ran my slick fingers over the dusty wooden floor, visualising the shapes I needed. "Tutela, Specialis, Vitualamen" I chanted over an over, the words blurring into one, as my breathing came faster and faster. "Tutela, Specialis, Vitualamen". I finished the first seal, a warm glow started behind my eyelids. "Tutela, Specialis, Vitualamen". I finished the second seal.

My eyes were burning, all I could see were the seals, flashing before my eyes like muggle strobe lighting. Knowing what I had to do, I threw myself to the ground, I pressed my hands flat over the seals. I could feel the magic burn, bubbling to the surface of my skin waiting to be released. It felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff waiting to fall.

I traced over the seals with bloody finger tips, there was a sudden roaring in my ears, and there was release. And I felt safe, like I had done after tracing blood over the normal alphabet, like I had working with numbers. But this time it was bigger, better. This time it was magic.

When I awoke the room looked exactly the same as it had before i had started the ritual, there was no blood or markings. All that was left was a thin bone white scar on my wrist, a link between me and the wards, and to those who were runic ritual experts, there were faint gold lines embedded in the wood. Like it was threaded with golden silk.

I was lying curled into a ball on the hard floor, my stomach grumbled loudly in protest. I crept downstairs, resting a hand on the door next to mine, just in case there was someone on the other side reaching out to me, but there was no one. The stairs creaked as I tiptoed.

Surprisingly it was light downstairs. There were a few maids, waving wands about, rearranging furniture with practised eases, and a cook stood behind the bar levitating some sugar into a pot of porridge. She had scraggy salt and pepper grey hair, and round red cheeks. As is a at the bar trying to make myself as small as humanly possible, she looked like she wanted to hit me and send my on my way. But eventually she slid a bowl of steaming oats towards me. I smiled in thanks but said nothing.

I was just about to leave when an odd couple staggered down the stairs. The took some seats beside me, and seemed to be having some sort of silent but still furious exchange. The witch looked younger than the man, with wispy brown hair, a wide set face, but a beautiful set of blue almond eyes. The man, looked like he could have been handsome once, his jaw was rugged, but his eyes bloodshot.

"What are you lookin' at?" he almost slurred at me, like he was still drunk from the night before. "You're not even young enough to go to school yet, didn't you parents teach you to respect your betters?" I froze, I hadn't even realise I was staring. I girl looked at me in fear, pearly white teeth nibbled on her already chewed lips.

"I didn't mean any offense" I said stumbling over the words, I stood up to leave, but I noticed an angry purple bruise, on the girl's wrist, a handprint. She seemed to shrink into herself when she saw my line of gaze and shrugged her robe's sleeves down.

He husband or lover or whatever he was only seemed to get more angry. I thought I see the froth of spittle on his lips. He looked down at me. "Who do you think you are to look at my wife like that? You are nothing to me. You freak."

I walked away.

Back in my room, I thought of the man's face as I looked down at the shimmery lines of my runic wards. That filth couldn't have done that. I would show him. Soon. I smirked, then slid my wand out of my pocket and began practising.

I started with a basic spell, the first one I had come across. Lumos, Latin for light. I rolled the word over my tongue before I began. The syllables felt strangely foreign, but also, very, very powerful. I lifted my wand, traced the shape of the spell in front of me. The air around my wand seemed t crackle with anticipation.

I focused, letting the magic build in my veins, pulling it from somewhere deep inside of me, I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of being complete. My eyes flicked open, Lumos, I whispered, energy raced from my body, and the room exploded into light.

I wondered if that was what God felt like all the time? To create something, out of nothing, but the power you had had all a long, but never even known.

I carried on practising for a while, I focused largely on first year spells, trying to adjust the amount of power I put into the spells. I also discovered emphasis on different arts of the spell gave it different results, as did your will.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Topaz Awakening**

I arrived at platform nine and three-quarters with a slight spring in my step every omen pointed towards a good year. The sky was clear, even the number 9 and three quarters rolled off my tongue and into my heart. And somewhere buried deep inside of me, I could feel the magic, the raw power waiting to burst forth.

I stood between platforms nine and ten blankly, they could've at least put up a sign, I thought bitterly to myself. I closed my eyes, and concentrated until the voices of muggles and arriving trains became muffled, then I expanded my senses. At first there was a tingly almost painful feeling, as I pushed my awareness beyond the confines of my own body. Soon pinpricks started tugging on my mind, wizards with magical signatures. Then I found it, there was a hub of energy not far from where I was standing, giving an almost white light under my eyelids.

Shaking myself from my trance, sure enough there was what looked to be a wizarding family approaching the wall in front of me, apart from, when they reached the wall, they didn't stop, they just faded into nothing.

I walked through.

The was a large burgundy steam engine pulled into the platform. Children holding hands with there parents, or tugging on their parents sleeves whined and cried, or bounced with excitement. I looked at the ground, pulling my trunk behind me. My wand was a reassuring presence in my right sleeve.

The platform buzzed with life and energy, I had to resist the temptation to close my eyes against the sensory overload. It smelt like acrid smoke, from the steam engine, and it was boiling hot, more so than the muggle platform. The ground beneath my feet seemed strangely fake, almost spongy. I stared at it for a minute, willing for it to reveal it's secrets.

I let out a small yelp as the platform seemed to disappear from under me. It was a temporary conjuration, a cheap trick to impress parents. I let out a sigh of relief as the platform returned to normal.

One girl caught my eye, she seemed to be alone like me, tugging a small muggle suitcase behind her with apparent ease. Although there was a look of blind panic in her eyes, as she worried her upper lip with her teeth. I followed behind her as she stepped into a carriage. On her suitcase in tiny, curvasive lettering, were the initials H.G.

The whistle blew, although there was no station master and the train had no driver I could see. I followed the girl discretely onto one of the middle carriages. She slipped into an empty compartment with more grace than most girls our age. I followed.

"Do you mind if I join you?" she looked startled by my presence. "Uh, sure" she replied after looking up at me and blushing. "I'm Harry Potter, and you are?" I extended my hand. I still wasn't used to human contact, but had found it was always easier when I was in control. "Hermione, Hermione Granger, do you mean _the_ Harry Potter?" I nodded grimly, then cracked a sarcastic smile "How many others are there? I thought I was original" I pouted. She had the grace to look embarrassed rather than amused. "I wouldn't have said anything, just you don't have a scar."

It's easy to forget who you are sometimes isn't it. You can hide all you want, but eventually real life will catch you out. "Just because you can't see something, doesn't mean it's not there" I sat down heavily and stared out of the window and the empty topaz sky.

We sat in silence for a while, until Hermione pulled out a book, 'Getting in touch with your magical core'. It was strange, not many of the wizarding world seemed bothered by the origin of their magic, they just took it for granted, stranger still was a muggle born (at least I hadn't recognised her surname as pureblood) taking an interest in old customs. "Why're you reading that?" I asked curious, she was so shocked I broke the silence, the book promptly slipped through her fingers, and closed with a slam on the wooden floor.

"Don't you find it fascinating? To know you have your very own reserves of magic? Very few people realise, but with meditation and practise you can control your magic a hundred times better, just by getting in touch with what already belongs to you." She was almost rambling now with enthusiasm, on the inside I smiled a little.

On the outside I nodded along. "Aye, not many people do realise, what've you done so far? Maybe I could help." Her blue eyes opened wide as if she thought I was joking. "Really? You would? I've started meditation, every night for a few weeks now, and I can feel something there, I just, well, every time I get close, it all gets a bit fuzzy round the edges and I lose concentration."

"Maybe I can help, that was what I struggled with at first, but trust me it's well worth the time it takes" I stood up and stretched me arms, before sitting down next to her. "Close your eyes", I instructed, and she did without even asking why. I took her hands in mine, they were very small and childlike, with chipped turquoise nail polish on her bitten nails. "No start your meditating, like you normally do".

Her tongue slipped out from between her lips as she concentrated. I closed my eyes too, and focused as I had on the platform, but instead of just expanded my awareness like a giant net, I sent my power through my hands and into Hermione's. Her conscience shone like a star, in the blackness of her mind.

And there, just to the left was the centre of her magic. It sparkled like a diamond, and at first appeared to be small. But when I looked closer extended outwards as far as I could see, but it was almost invisible, black diamond to it's centres white. No wonder it had felt fuzzy round the edges. Her magic was stretched out over a large area of her mind, it was a miracle she'd been managing to function without it taking her over.

I called to her with my mind, not using words but images and music to convey my meaning to her in he trancelike state. Together we focused our energy on forcing her core into one place, pulling in all the black, until she was left with a finely tuned core the colour of obsidian. I pulled out of her mind, and back into my own.

Her eyes flickered open, shocked. "I...I feel amazing" she whispered, looking up at me. She pulled her hands away from me, and stared at them as if deep in thought. Her palm lifted t the sky and she bit into her lip, deep enough to draw blood but she didn't notice flames flickered to life over the skin on her hand. Dancing and jumping as she watched transfixed. Blood dribbled down her chin but still she ignored it.

"Told you it was worth it" I said.

_SORRY, I know how late this is, exams and shit...Actually I'm not going to lie, I forgot my password to my fanfcition account, but was convinced the account was broken, turns out I was just being dumb. So if you guys'll forgive I promise to try harder to write at least a few times a week._


	6. Chapter 6

**The Topaz Awakening**

The sky outside was fading from blue to black as we approached Hogwarts. Hermione shifted from foot to foot with nerves. I stood stoic.

The Hogwarts express screeched to a halt at Hogsmede platform, and first years were ushered towards my dear friend Hagrid, a hard figure to miss even in the pouring rain. Like cattle we were herded towards the lake, it's expanse of inky blackness stretched as far as our eyes could see, our brand new shoes, polished and shined traipsed through the thick mud towards the water's edge.

It wasn't long before everyone bar Hermione and I were gawping up at the grand sight Hogwarts made, towering over us 11 year olds like a prison. Perhaps Hermione was too nervous to notice the beauty of the warm glow surrounding Hogwarts. Although I like to think she, like myself, was simply too caught up in feeling the magic surrounding the building to even look at it's exterior.

Hogwarts hummed with presence, with life. The magic was neither male nor female but regardless it felt older than time. I thought for a moment I felt a hand softly brush against my cheek, but then I was jolted back to reality by the boats hitting shore.

Hermione and I got dragged along by the crowd, I barely had time to will my clothes clean and dry before we were lined up at the front of the great hall single file, like lambs queuing for our own execution.

Whilst I waited for my turn at the sorting hat, a stupid piece of animated cloth,( I still hate it, even now, for what it did to me), I examined the vast ceiling. Impossible rain clouds raged with a nonexistent storm, above the dry safe heads of hundreds of magical beings. My interested was peaked when I heard Hermione's name called.

She stumbled up to the hat, muttering under her breath. Her already pale face was now a deathly shade of white, as if she believed it would be a trial by fire or a battle to the death. She had just reached the last step onto the small raised platform when i saw her falter, her ankle twisting. Without thinking I forced my magic forward, reaching forward my hand as if she were only a few inches away I gestured as if I would grab her shoulder and pull her back. I knew she would have felt my hand on her, saving her from embarrassment.

Hermione paused, but only momentarily, as much as she was nervous she was also clearly excited about beginning her future here. She glanced round, I felt her linger on my face for a second, but my eyes had already returned to the enchanted ceiling.

The hat was silent on her head, for a painful minute you would have been able to hear a pin drop in the great hall. Then with it's warm booming voice the hat announced 'RAVENCLAW'.

Hermione beamed. Her smile so wide I thought it would never end, and marched to the table on the far right of the hall, almost dancing with glee.

Soon it was my turn, the silence fell once more over the hall before I had even moved from my place. I saw the teachers turn from murmured conversations to examine me closely. My skin crawled under Dumbledore's gaze.

I sat on the stool, as every other child had, and placed the hat on my head. Almost immediately I could feel it's probes of magic try to squirm their way into my head. I yanked the hat off with a yelp. You probably won't understand what it's like to have someone try to read your mind through defences, but imagine the worst earache you've ever had. Multiply it by ten, and then imagine inside your brain it's self not your ears. That dull ache and ringing that you just want to claw out.

McGonagall an old witch, who looked frail but acted like the Lion of her Houses crest, marched up to see what the problem was, but before she reached me the hat whispered something to me.

'Let go' It said gently, all trace of warmth gone.

I stared for a second, wondering if I had imagined it.

'Let your barriers down' it urged me.

The barriers around my mind were tight as always, wound like a coil ready to spring. Letting them go for just a few minutes seemed like such a good idea, sitting in the great hall, at the heart of Hogwarts life, feeling for the first time like I belonged.

I returned the hat to my head and McGonagall warily backed away. I slowly began to unravel my defences, and I felt the sorting hat worm its way deeper into my consciousness.

It took me a while to realise I was no longer in control. Anyone who has been in anyway bound for a long time will know how amazing it feels to finally be free. The sorting hat starting sending images into my head, searching for the ones that triggers the greatest responses, as it must have done with every other child.

But as I said I was no longer in control. The sorting hat had started something awful, the barriers I kept on my magic were beginning to break apart. Part of my brain screamed and raged, trying to regain control of an already runaway train. The other part was in a blissful state, my magic rose up around me. I was floating literally above the platform, hands raised to the ceiling feeling the magic of the castle reach out to meet mine.

My magic howled around me, glad to be free at last. Unaware the hat continued flashing images into my brain. Finally one got a reaction. A picture of the sky. But not just the sky all the feelings associated with it.

It's measureless expanse of emptiness. It's complete lack of emotion. It's indiscernible sense of freedom.

My magic continued to flow out of me, a river after all damns had been broken, and now it had a dream. Freedom.

Sparks began to form at my finger tips, I span round and round and a ghostly wind surrounded me. The funny thing was is I wasn't even scared, even that small part of me that just a moment ago had be urging me to regain control had silenced. All I could hear was the roaring of waves. Distantly I heard yelling and rushing about. But no-one could touch me, I was beyond even time, even the physical realm.

Suddenly there it was again. That sudden longing to be free. My magic was angry now. Why had it been restrained for so long?

The winds around me formed a voice and howled at me.

'GIVE ME LIBERATION OR GIVE ME DEATH' but the words were torn from my own lips. I could no longer feel my body, I was just a rolling expanse of sensations, and the fabulous power of my magic.

Liberation.

Liberation.

Liberation.

My magic cried out.

Then almost as suddenly as it started, my magic began to recede, waves gentler now, ebbing back into me like the tide.

I felt it whisper to me one last time ' give me liberation, or give me death'. It was a request, not a demand this time.

My armed burned as the last of my unrestrained power left its mark on me. I glanced down as my body slammed into the platform, and saw on my arm a stark black brand in curvasive script against my pale flesh. The words ' without freedom we are already dead'.

I heard the hat call ' RAVENCLAW' but it's voice sounded like it was a million miles away.

I saw anger in old watery pale eyes looking into my own, before all I knew was darkness.


End file.
